


Layovers Are For Getting Laid

by Flufflybunnypants



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Airport AU, M/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 10:09:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3170957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flufflybunnypants/pseuds/Flufflybunnypants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys are stuck in an airport, Dean's bored, and Sam's occupied with the hot guy sleeping in a creeptastic trenchcoat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Layovers Are For Getting Laid

Dean yawned slightly as Sam’s head slid into his lap. “Sleepy, Sammy?”

"You just stay put, Dean. Be a good pillow."

Dean patted Sam’s floppy hair and kept eating the trail mix M&Ms. The window he was leaning against was cool, but it was at least a little darker than in the rows of chairs under the lights. “Hey, hey.” Dean prods Sam’s shoulder. “Bet I can hit sleeping beauty over there.”

"What?"

Sam turns, almost elbowing Dean in the crotch.

"Whoa, easy there, Sasquatch. I bet I can hit Trenchcoat with a peanut from here."

"Dude! You’re not going throw a peanut at him."

"Come on."

Sam leans back, closing his eyes again. “It’s past two in the morning.”

Dean watches Trenchcoat (and really who wears a creeper coat to the airport?) while Sam tries to sleep. The man is slumped in the nearest of the gross airport chairs by the terminal. There’s no flights going out tonight, not in this weather, and anyone on layover is stuck within the airport. The airport hotels are pretty full, the remaining rooms absurdly expensive, and many of the seats too. Sam’s curled up happily on Dean’s legs, the weight oddly comforting. 

Dean can’t sleep. The M&M’s are gone. He digs in the bag until he hooks out a peanut. He examines it, but it’s just a peanut, not terribly interesting. He bounces it speculatively in his palm before he wings it at the man.

The man  _catches it_. Doesn’t even open his eyes or do Dean the courtesy of acting surprised. Just snatches it out of the air and pops it in his mouth.

"Shit. Sammy!"

There’s a mumble that sounds suspiciously like “Fuck off, asshat.”

Dean doesn’t give in, prods Sam again. Sam sits up, hair flaring out like a mane. “What?! Jesus, Dean—”

"He caught it!"

"Who?"

"Creeper Coat."

"What did he do?"

"I threw a peanut—"

"Dean!"

"—and he just caught it, didn’t even fucking look!"

"I told you not to throw it," Sam hisses. "What if he has a peanut allergy?"

"He caught a peanut with his eyes shut, he’s superhuman. I don’t think peanut allergies could take him down!"

"Jesus, Dean. Just go to sleeeeeeep."

Dean sighs. He tilts his head back against the dark window and closes his eyes.

When he opens them again, the first thing he notices is that the clock says its 7 am. The next thing he notices is that he is cold and stiff and Sam is gone.

WHERE THE HELL IS SAM?

Dean sits bolt upright and then winces as his neck screams in pain. Fortunately, his bleary eyes can see a little brother shape lounging in one of the chairs a few feet away. 

Dean pulls himself to his feet and hobbles over, blinking the sleep away. Swaying on his feet, he stares owlishly down at Sam. And Mr. Trenchcoat. Dean’s brow furrows. 

"This," Sam says with an easy grin, "Is Dean. He’s not human until he gets caffeine. Dean, this is Castiel."

Dean just glares. But then Castiel hands over a warm paper cup that smells like heaven. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean downs the coffee, moaning with delight. “You’re a god, Cas.”

Castiel blushes faintly. His hair is slightly mussed, but his blue eyes are bright.

"You’ll be glad to know, Dean, Castiel bears no grudges for your peanut throwing."

"It wasn’t a very good peanut," Cas muses.

Dean flushes a little with shame. He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. But hey, how’d you catch it?”

"You made this little noise, and I have pretty good reflexes."

"Oh you mean his squeak?" Sam’s enjoying this.

"I do NOT squeak."

Cas’ eyes squint with mirth. “Sam says its pretty similar to the sound you make when being tickled.”

Dean sort of gapes at Sam.

"We had a while to talk. And then you turned over, curled up, and we both thought that you looked pretty cute."

It all clicks. They’ve done this before, and Sam’s always been the one to vet potential third partners. And, hey, Dean can see the appeal of this man.

"That reminds me," Cas says with concern, "your neck seemed to pain you. Come here." It’s an inarguable command. Dean stands awkwardly in front of Cas until Cas tugs him down to sit with his back to Cas’ shins. Cas works his hands surely into the knot of muscle until the pain is soothed away.

"So…" Dean pauses. Picking up women? He’s Mr. Charming. But guys are just different. "How are we doing this?"

"I’ve managed to snare a hotel room this morning, if you both wouldn’t mind?"

"That’s…that’s fine, Cas. You waiting for a flight out to Kansas too?"

"Yes. Which means we’re here for the foreseeable future. Still, no reason to waste time. Let’s go."

"Yeah, c’mon, Dean," Sam says,  picking up both of their bags. He and Cas start walking briskly to the elevator. 

"You’re both really bossy," Dean says petulantly just as they reach the elevator.

Cas grabs his collar and shoves him into the empty elevator. “Probably because you respond so wonderfully to it.”

Dean goes with it, lets Cas press him into wall and suck a dark mark above the collar of his plaid. A small part of his mind wonders if Cas will get the same flight as them.

They’ve got a few days here, at least, and then maybe they can all join the Mile High Club.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, gimme some love and yell at me when I make elementary spelling or grammar mistakes!


End file.
